Naomi’s List

(originally published March 13, 2012)
Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer. (Romans 12:12)

We were friends…as much as you could be, standing between the frozen foods and the peanut butter. Her delicate frame came just above my elbow, as my tall frame seemed to tower over her. We saw each other weekly at the grocery store. It seemed as if we timed our visits to synchronize with each other. She always teased me about my two shopping carts.

Push one…pull the other, she would say.
If they would just stop eating, I would tease back and she would ask about my children.

We shared bits and pieces of our lives as we placed our necessities in the shopping cart. Her slight Southern accent, peeking out from behind her words, made me realize how much we did not know about each other, but somehow that didn’t seem to matter.

If I switched my grocery day because of a play at school that I must attend, or something else that demanded my attention, my friend would notice and make sure, upon our next meeting, that I was alright.

It was an odd friendship, but there was something comforting in the fact that there was regularity to it.

Even more amazing was the difference in our ages: she, a senior, with her beautiful gray hair worn as her badge of honor, and me, middle age, and the beginning of that same gray.

We finally got around to sharing our names, which up to this particular moment seemed unnecessary. She told me her name was “Naomi” and I smiled a knowing smile.

It’s from the Bible, she said.
I know, I agreed, from the Book of Ruth.

She beamed and I knew right then we had much more in common. We were not just supermarket friends, we were sisters bonded in Christ. Suddenly the years dissolved, the gray vanished, the size equaled, and the only thing between us was the Cross. Beautifully, it did not divide us, but connected us. The shopping carts and necessities seemed superfluous. We were not from the same era, or the same region, but we would share an eternity where all that matters is Him.

Weeks went by and I had not seen my friend and didn’t even know who to ask about her. Finally, one day, as I turned a corner, there she was…a little slower, a little frailer.

How are you? I asked.

Oh, not too good, she replied and she continued to tell me about her health.
I have osteoporosis, she said, and I’m always in pain. I have this medicine…but it is so expensive. We can’t afford it.

I looked at her half worn smile and realized I had just listened to the reality of many of our elderly. She was married and had a son, but things were tight for her and her husband. I saw in her eyes, as I have seen in many others, that life is hard.

Jesus told us it would be…In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world. (John 16:33). Remembering that verse, I smiled. There is a victory because there is a Victor.

I touched her arm and told her, I’ll pray for you.

Her face lit up. She did a double take as she looked at my face, searching my eyes to see if I was sincere. In that instant, she seemed to stand straighter, as if suddenly Someone was holding her up. I thought of Moses, Aaron, and Hur on top of the hill as Joshua fought the Amalekites. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning but whenever he lowered his hands the Amalekites were winning. (Exodus 17:11). But Moses grew tired so Aaron and Hur held his hands up one on one side, one on the other… (Exodus 14:12b) and the Amalekite army was defeated. Moses said, For hands were lifted up to the throne of the Lord. (Exodus 17:16a).  As I prayed, Jesus interceded, and together we supernaturally held up Naomi’s hands.

What is your name, again? she asked, her memory somewhat dimmer.

Gina, I said as I watched her pull out a well worn envelope from her coat pocket and slowly, deliberately, write down my name.

Weeks passed and I worried about my friend. One day, in the checkout line, I felt a small tap on my shoulder. As the beep of the UPC scanner calculated my grocery bill, I saw Naomi with a questioning face.

What did you say your name was? she asked, frustrated that she couldn’t remember.

But before I could answer, she pulled out that same well worn envelope, from weeks before, and pointed to a bit of scratchy writing in the left corner.

Jane? I think I wrote it down.

As I glanced at TO DO lists and grocery lists, and math calculations scribbled hurriedly in the corners, I did indeed see “Jane”.

Oh, but look, I exclaimed, Right here…GINA…you did write it down!

I felt my throat tighten as I saw below it:
Gina said she’d pray for me!

I couldn’t see her through the tears. My dear friend held onto that promise as her only hope.

I got in the car and thanked God for the privilege of prayer. Oh what a responsibility we have to be faithful in prayer. May we never be so nonchalant with our words as to not back them up with sincere faithfulness. May the Spirit that guides us, also convict us to pray fervently as if we are the only ones praying. We just might be.

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. It enters the inner sanctuary, behind the curtain, where Jesus, who went before us, has entered on our behalf.
(Hebrews 6:19-20a)